


Dishevelled and Speechless

by sixtysevenlmpala



Series: Teach You How [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Fantasy Fulfillment, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:17:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixtysevenlmpala/pseuds/sixtysevenlmpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A requested sequel. Can probably stand alone, though.<br/>Dean hasn't stopped thinking about Sam's confession, and he's determined to give him what he wants. Because that's what awesome brothers do, obviously.<br/>Major PWP. I'm not sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dishevelled and Speechless

After _that_ night, Dean doesn’t make Sam talk dirty again. He doesn’t feel the need to; Sam’s loosened up a whole lot since Dean forcibly extracted him from his shell, occasionally lets himself mutter things like, “Fuck, I love your cock so much,” or, “Wanna taste you, Dean, gonna lick you ‘til you’re shaking, ‘til you beg,” while they’re in bed. He’s becoming okay with saying those kinds of things, and Dean more than condones it.

So, there hasn’t really been a need to talk about it. It was a success – end of.

That’s why Dean hasn’t mentioned the fantasy Sam blurted out pre-orgasm; the desire he apparently has to drag Dean off into some semi-public place, rough him up and fuck him all fast and dirty.

Sam hasn’t mentioned it either – probably embarrassed, knowing him – but fuck if Dean hasn’t been thinking about it. The three weeks between then and now have had Dean over-focussing on every slightly too-tight grip of Sam’s hand on him and his nights filled with red-hot dreams of Sam manhandling him as he pleases – pushing him down and making him take it right there in the restroom of some god-awful fancy restaurant.

Fuck yeah, he’s been thinking about it.

And the thing is, Dean knows Sam, knows all his tells and every single lilt to his voice, so he _knows_ simply by the tone behind the words when Sam stuttered them out that this isn’t just a passing fancy. It’s something he’s been thinking about for a long time, something he never said but always wanted.

Let no man say that Dean Winchester doesn’t give his baby brother what he wants.

He leans a little further over the polished bar, trying his utmost to listen intently to the middle-aged barmaid’s account of a guy who could just be the vamp they’re looking for, but mainly focussing on... well. He could say he’s ensuring that his back is arched just right, the curve of his spine delicate and graceful – but really, in plain terms, he’s basically concentrating on sticking his ass out far enough to catch Sam’s eye. He knows how tight these suit pants stretch over the roundness of his ass when he bends forward like this, elbows resting on the bar top, and he hides a smirk as he practically feels the heat of Sam’s gaze on him from behind.

Dean keeps her talking, nods and smiles and laughs low in all the right places, and he steals a glance over his shoulder to check how he’s doing. He’s met with the sight of Sam standing behind an empty table, fingers gripping the edge of it tight enough that they shake a little; his jaw is clenched and his eyes are wide and dark and trained on Dean like he’s a piece of meat Sam’s inches away from tearing apart, and Dean almost chokes on his grin. Jesus, how did he not notice _this_ before?

“Thank _you_ , sweetheart,” Dean croons to the barmaid, only a little distracted, before he turns and saunters back to Sam as casually as he can, watching his brother watch the leisurely swing of his hips.

“So?” Sam asks through gritted teeth, trying for normal. “Sound like our guy?”

Dean lets a slow smile unfold on his face. “That really what you’re thinkin’ about?”

Sam swallows. There’s a hint of sweat at the base of his neck, a slight sheen in the hollow just visible over the top of his tie. “You don’t have to—“ he falters, voice rough like it is when his cock is buried in Dean’s throat, and his fists are balled up at his sides.

“Sammy.” Dean steps closer, and Sam bites his lip and looks around, over his shoulder to survey the rest of the restaurant.

It’s pretty nice, the kind with chandeliers that aren’t expensive enough to be real gold, but they’re authentic enough that no one minds. And it’s crowded. Not full, but definitely getting there. Dean put a lot of planning into this.

“You gonna stand there thinkin’ about it,” he murmurs, Sam’s hand coming up to grip his arm, “or you gonna do it?”

Sam’s breathing shallowly, eyes transfixed on Dean, and the grip on his arm grows tighter and tighter to the point where Dean’s mouth drops open ‘cause it’s—well, it’s somehow rougher than Sam’s ever held him before, and it’s kind of stupidly hot.

“C’mon,” Dean mutters, grinning, “you wanna,” and Sam lets out a little growl.

His eyes squeeze shut for a brief second and he bares his teeth in a grimace, like he wants so much it physically hurts – and then Dean’s being yanked along so fast he doesn’t even register it at first, Sam’s hand like a vice on his arm pulling him towards the signs for the restrooms.

They barge past some plump, greying woman coming out of the ladies’, and that’s when the magnitude of what they’re doing hits Dean like a slap in the face. He’s blushing already when Sam hauls him through the door and throws him up against it, effectively slamming it after them. Dean tries to catch his breath as he looks around – no cubicles, it’s just the one room, and Dean guesses that’s just lucky because there’s no way in hell Sasquatch _and_ himself would fit in one cubicle.

It’s not all that much bigger, though, and Dean feels surrounded by his brother as he pins him up against the door, reaching around to slide the lock into place. Sam mutters, “Fuck,” a couple of times, sounding a little overwhelmed and a lot horny, grinding his cock into Dean’s hip – the ridge of his belt – as he drops his head to Dean’s neck and _bites_ , sharp and quick and kind of brutal, sucking the skin into his mouth and leaving deep, bruising indents of his teeth.

“ _Sam_ ,” Dean gasps out in shock, even as he gets a little carried away in it, tipping his head back against the door and letting Sam plant hickey after hickey on him. But the sound of footsteps passing the door and continuing on snaps him back to reality, and he mutters, “C’mon. You gonna? Or you all talk?”

Sam utters an almost pained noise and whispers inside a breath that’s harsh and uneven: “Shit. I want you. I wanna fuck you. Right now.”

His voice turns Dean to jelly and he quivers against him. “Then do it,” he says, mouth to Sam’s ear, and there’s that animalistic noise ripping out of Sam’s throat again, and before Dean knows what’s happening he’s being pushed and shoved, flipped around and dragged backwards and thrown up against the opposite wall.

The tile is cool against his front and Sam is a furnace burning right behind him, one hand sliding around and up to tug at the knot of Dean’s tie. He doesn’t finish taking it off, though, just leaves it hanging loose around his collar. “You look so fuckin’ neat and tidy out there,” Sam says, “cleaned up all nice and pretty like a good little FBI boy.” He shoves his hips into Dean through their clothes, the obvious ridge of his cock riding his ass, and Dean swallows down a groan. “But you’re gonna be a goddamn wreck when I’m done,” Sam promises, deftly unbuckling Dean’s belt.

“Sure about that?” Dean teases with a smirk thrown over his shoulder, though he doesn’t doubt it for a second. Sam’s body is strong pinning him to the wall, his mouth hot and certain biting at his neck, his hands determined as they push his pants and boxers down just enough to expose his ass. There’s no denying who’s got the upper hand here.

And Christ, Sam doesn’t waste any time – his fingers are suddenly, insistently pressing at Dean’s lips, and before Dean even considers arguing he’s opening his mouth for them, sucking them inside as Sam mutters, “Yeah, like that. All you’re getting.”

Dean whimpers a little around the slight tang of the taste of Sam’s fingers, laves his tongue over them in a filthy-quick slide. He gets them as wet as he possibly can, enough so that when Sam wrenches them from his mouth, they glisten in the artificial light from overhead.

See, Dean started this under no illusion that he was to get anything out of it himself. It was for Sammy, first and foremost; simply giving his brother what he wanted, without really expecting to get off on it at all. Obviously he’d _get off_ – he’d take Sam’s cock any way he could get it, and he’d love it – but semi-public sex had never really been Dean’s style, nor had this little exhibitionist thing Sammy’s got going on.

But now that he’s actually here, pressed up against the wall in a fucking public restroom of a pretty goddamn fancy place, people continuously walking past outside and his own gasps too loud for the secrecy of it all, knowing that people can probably hear exactly what they’re doing as Sam shoves two fingers inside him at once and he cries out huskily – well. It makes his cheeks flush with shame but his dick twitch with excitement, and that’s all Dean really needs to go on.

It’s brutal little stabs of his fingers like nothing Sam’s ever done to him before, and he can feel Sam’s harsh, panting breaths at the back of his neck, practically feel his pulse hammering away with how _into_ this he is, and it just makes it all the more hotter. Dean’s cursing, a long, low stream of _fuckfuckgodfuckingdamnitSamohshitlikethatfuckyeah_ as Sam fingers him fast and rough – and it’s all under his breath until Sam crooks his fingers up with an abrupt force and he lets out a loud moan, grinding back onto Sam’s hand wedged between them. Sam gives a smug laugh and tells him, “Wanna hear you. Don’t keep it all bottled up. Wanna _hear_ you,” and he punctuates it by pushing deeper, spreading his two fingers.

Dean’s hands scrabble at the tiled wall and he groans petulantly, “F-fucking _fuck_ me already, Jesus Christ, Sam—“ and shit, he doesn’t even finish his sentence before Sam’s yanking his fingers out of his ass and grabbing him by the scruff of his suit jacket, now soaking through with dark stains of sweat. Sam manhandles him along the wall, over to where there’s a sink with a mirror above it.

“Hold on,” Sam commands, pressing Dean’s hands to the edge of the basin where they curl obediently, “don’t let go.”

Dean’s reflection swallows. From here, he can see the door over his shoulder, and for a moment he forgets whether they _locked_ the damn thing or not, the thrilling possibility of getting caught illuminating itself in his mind. He can also see how flushed he is, how his previously perfectly-gelled hair is now mussed and damp at the roots with sweat, how his tie is hanging loose and his jacket – his pressed, dry-cleaned, favourite-ass suit jacket – is creased and draped in disarray on his flustered body.

He doesn’t really have time to do much else but perfunctorily take it all in, though, because before he knows what’s happening Sam’s spitting on his own cock and taking hold of his hips, kicking his legs apart and slamming home. Dean’s face scrunches up and he cries out, pain burning through his lower body, but Sam doesn’t leave time for him to accommodate the stretch, doesn’t even let him draw a breath before he’s fucking him in fast, deep strokes, enough power behind each one to bump his hip bones into the cold porcelain of the sink every time.

“Shit,” Dean gasps, “aw _fuck_ , Sammy,” and he doesn’t even care how loud he’s being because the initial spikes of pain are softening and melting into a scorching fluidity that pools at the base of his spine and builds steadily upwards until his whole body is shaking. His back arches as he gives himself over to it, hands clenched on the edge of the sink as Sam’s splayed hand in the middle of his back forces him to bend further forward. His head drops down, but Sam grabs the longest part of his hair – at the top of his head – and tugs it sharply back up again. Dean meets his eyes in the mirror.

“Keep looking,” Sam huffs out, snapping his hips, and Dean whimpers loudly and complies; lets Sam hold his head up, ignoring the pinpricks of pain in his scalp.

With the new grip on Dean’s hair, Sam’s thrusts become even more ruthless, fucking him harder and jolting him even more into the sink. Dean winces as his hard dick slaps repeatedly against the porcelain with the momentum, mutters, “ _Fuck_ ,” – but Sam seems to sense immediately that it’s not a good _fuck_ , gets it straight away and yanks Dean backwards, and he stumbles but his hips are mercifully clear of the sink.

After that, Dean’s free to lose himself in it, body turning lax and pliant in Sam’s strong arms as he drives into him again and again, their moans fusing together in the heated air and filling the room to the brim, neither of them able to bring themselves to care.

Dean dimly thinks that Sam must have only taken his cock out of his open fly, ‘cause the smooth fabric of his pants slides against Dean’s ass every time he grinds in balls-deep, makes Dean’s eyelids flutter with pleasure. Dean’s own belt buckle clinks with every jerk of Sam’s hips, a constant reminder of what they’re doing, of how he let his baby brother just pull his pants down and fuck him right then and there, like a whore.

He vaguely registers that Sam’s talking and he struggles to listen, raising his lidded eyes to meet Sam’s in the mirror. His little brother’s features are pinched with pleasure, his unruly hair wild around his face as his pretty pink mouth drops easily open on the words, “Fuck, yeah, Dean—thought about this so much, every fuckin’ time—“ and Dean moans shakily with him as he drives in particularly deep, head of his cock grazing Dean’s prostate. “Knew it, too,” Sam murmurs, voice hoarse, “knew you’d love it, jus’ letting me take you like this, like a pretty little— _slut_ — jus’ love gettin’ _fucked—“_

“Sam,” Dean breathes, and it’s meant to be a warning, the ingrained macho persona inside of him bristling at the comments, but it’s not like he can fucking deny it, and the tone of voice he ends up coming out with is more pleading than anything else.

“Yeah,” Sam mutters. “Yeah, Dean, so fucking hot, Christ,” and Dean cries out, loud and unashamed, on an especially rough thrust; Sam pulling out almost all the way and slamming back home again.

Dean’s hands are gripping the sink so hard he’s actually a little scared it’s gonna rip off the wall, ‘cause his cock is hard and throbbing between his wide-spread legs, begging for touch, but Sam told him not to move. After a few more minutes of panting and groaned expletives, though, Sam presses a knowing grin into his neck, nips at his ear and reaches around to fist his cock.

His hand’s dry and the friction makes Dean hiss a little, but the pre-come blurting from the tip of his cock soon renders that issue null, dribbling down over Sam’s fingers and slicking the way for the quick, relentless tugs of his hand. _Shitfuckshit_ it feels so goddamn good, slippery and filthy and amazing with Sam’s thick cock stretching him out, and Dean can’t control the frantic noises spilling from his lips, can’t even think about who might be just the other side of the door, mere metres away; can only fuck into Sam’s grip and rut back onto his cock and let his voice crack weakly on the _ah, ah, ah_ ’s that echo off the tiles.

Dean can’t hold back any longer, smacks one hand down on the rim of the sink and positively _yells_ Sam’s name as his hips judder and he spurts pearly white ropes over Sam’s fingers, the wall, the porcelain. He’s pretty sure Sam chuckles in his ear, but it’s breathless and he’s losing his rhythm, shoving his cock into Dean’s ass with little finesse.

For the last few minutes after Dean’s orgasm, Sam keeps on fucking him, one hand splayed over his chest as he supports his now-limp body, the other steadying his hips, keeping his ass tilted for his dick.  Dean simply lets him, lets himself be used, head lolling forward as Sam growls deep and desperate in his ear, yanking Dean’s pliant form tight against him as his hips still and he emits a low groan, pumping Dean full of his come.

Two – five – maybe ten minutes later, who the hell knows – Dean makes a disgruntled noise beneath the huge lump that is Sam Winchester, hands braced once more against the sink as he attempts to shift his brother off of his back. “Dude,” he grumbles, pointedly clenching his ass around Sam’s softening cock, and Sam winces and pulls out too quickly.

“Sorry,” Sam says, looking like he doesn’t mean it at all. When Dean turns around, Sam’s got that soppy, sated grin on his face, the one that’s about eight hundred miles wide and always manages to somehow hit him right in the chest. Sam’s eyes roam slowly from Dean’s head to his toe and back again, taking in his debauched appearance with apparent satisfaction, and his grin widens a little more. “You totally liked that.”

“Shut up,” Dean mutters, cheeks burning with more than just post-sex flush. “It was your stupid fantasy, not mine.”

“Yeah,” Sam says easily, pulling him close, “but you liked it.”

“Whatever.”

Sam mouths at Dean’s neck, lips pillow-soft against his skin. “Thank you, though. For that. You’re officially the best big brother ever.” Dean just rolls his eyes, and Sam pulls back. “I’m _serious_! Hey, look. I know this wasn’t exactly, uh, a huge undertaking for you, but even so – how about next time, we fulfil one of yours?”

“Who says I have any?” Dean smirks. Sam only raises an eyebrow, and he laughs. “Yeah, alright, point.” He leers at Sam. “You really don’t know what you just got yourself into, kiddo.”

“I can handle it,” Sam insists, hands trailing down the back of Dean’s jacket to his still-bare ass. His fingers slip between the cheeks to where his come is just starting to leak out of Dean, much to Dean’s discomfort, and without any warning Sam slides two fingers up inside him.

“Jesus, warn a guy, Sammy,” Dean gasps, shuddering.

Sam ignores him, only mutters, “Hmm,” and then bites his lip. “Wanna do somethin’ for me?”

“Isn’t that what I just did?”

Sam shakes his head. “Somethin’ else.” Dean just licks his lips quickly and waits, a challenging look in his eyes. “I want you to... to keep this,” he says, swirling his fingers around in the mess inside of Dean, “inside. Or, well. As much as you can. ‘Til we get back.” His voice is low and dirty with promise, albeit with a slightly nervous tremor to it.

Dean frowns a little. “Why would I do that?”

“’Cause I’ll make it worth your while.”

He crooks his fingers teasingly inside Dean before removing them, and Dean automatically tightens himself, clenches firm. “How’s that?”

Dean watches Sam swallow – this talking thing, it’s still new to him, but goddamn if he ain’t good at it – and then he leans close, whispers in Dean’s ear. “Maybe I wanna spread you out an’ lick it out of you later. That okay?”

Dean’s eyes widen, mouth opening and closing for a few seconds with no sound coming out. If he was still a teenager, he is a thousand percent certain his cock would be standing to attention right now. “I-I thought it was my turn next,” he manages, trying for smart.

Sam grins, tugs Dean’s pants up and buckles his belt. “I know you better than you think I do, Dean,” he tells him, then drags him to the door, dishevelled and speechless.

As soon as they walk back out together into the restaurant, they’re greeted by several judgmental stares and a few scandalised expressions. Sam’s sporting that telltale blush that to the untrained eye looks bashful but that Dean knows means he’s a little turned-on.

Dean still doesn’t _really_ get the whole exhibitionist thing, but he reaches a hand down and gives Sam’s ass an obvious squeeze in full view as they’re leaving, because, hey. He’s the best big brother ever.

And if Sam returns it via a hard, purposeful pat right in the centre of Dean’s ass that makes his breath hitch and his stomach flutter, well, then that’s just a perk.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, feel free to leave a comment/kudos if you liked!


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